smothered
by takeyourside
Summary: 'i will take a bullet for you... and i don't mean that literally'
1. Part I

"You coming to join us? We're celebrating," Harvey grinned, leaning against the doorway. In his hand was a champagne flute, filled with the bubbling liquid, and he nodded to it. She responded with a smile and he took it as his cue to walk towards her, propping himself against the arm of the couch where she sat. He handed her the drink which she gladly accepted.

"I'll come over to your office in a bit, I want to finish this first. It shouldn't take long and it's so boring that I don't want it looming over my head," Donna replied, gesturing to the papers in her lap. Her beau raised his brows, his face asking if she was sure. "I won't be long," she confirmed.

The senior partners of Specter Litt Wheeler Williams were celebrating a momentous win against their least favourite lawyer: Daniel Hardman. He'd waltzed into their lives with a rabbit hole of a suit that they'd spent months trying to fend off and, finally, they won – but that should be expected of the team by now. Louis decided the win was so spectacular it was worth opening his extortionately expensive bottle of champagne, gifted to him by Fairchild many moons ago.

"We can have our own celebrations when we get home." Harvey said playfully as he approached the office doorway.

"Oh, really? I thought it was Samantha who cracked the case." Her words made him turn to face her. "Maybe I should celebrate with her," she suggested with a sultry glimmer in her eye.

"Can Samantha do that thing with her tongue?" He cocked a brow and watched his girlfriend try to suppress her glee. "My thoughts exactly," he smirked before leaving the office, the redhead releasing a giggle and placing her still full glass on the coffee table in front of her. Unbeknownst to him, she knew exactly how they were going to celebrate.

She stayed in her office for another half hour, glancing out to the night sky every now and then in desperate need of her freedom. She was a disciplined worker, a perfectionist in every which way, but she was willing to overlook her work ethic to join her friends in her lover's office.

After placing her finished work onto her desk, she turned around only to see an unfamiliar face stood just outside of her office. She jumped upon spotting the woman – clad in a leather jacket with dark hair held back in a low ponytail.

"Can I help you?" Donna asked, turning her whole body to face the stranger.

"I'm looking for Harvey Specter, I was wondering if you could show me to his office? There's no one at reception." The female asked, pointing back to the direction she'd come from with her left hand.

"Are you a client?" Donna questioned with a small smile, confused by the person in front of her. It was late, too late for someone who didn't know where Harvey's office was to be asking to see him. It was clear the woman wasn't a client but Donna didn't want to come across as accusatory. The brunette stood at around the height Donna would without her heels. She was slim, her black skinny jeans accentuating her thigh gap, and her pale face was gaunt.

"Hopefully I will be soon," the woman declared. Her tone was harsh and cold, her expression unmoving. Donna gave a nod of her head before her gaze fell on the woman's right hand, resting by her side was a black handbag. It looked cheap, indicating to Donna that the woman could not afford the firm.

"Harvey isn't here right now, I'm the last one out tonight." Donna responded, not entirely lying. Harvey might've been at the firm but he wasn't working, she was the last one left at the firm who was doing their job. Her words were met with a nod and the recipient moved her bag round in front of her thighs, both hands clutching the handle.

"You're Donna Paulsen."

"That's what it says on the door," Donna confirmed.

"You're Harvey Specter's girlfriend, right?" The woman enquired, stepping into the office at long last. Donna paused in hesitation, not sure why the question was being asked or how this stranger even knew.

"I am," she forced a smile onto her face and held one of her hands in the other in front of her torso.

The woman slipped her right hand into the handbag and when she removed it a shiver ran down Donna's spine. It was as though a slither of ice had penetrated her heart, causing the blood in her veins to run cold. She felt her breath catch in her throat following her sharp inhale but was determined to remain calm and composed – panicking wasn't going to help her.

Her eyes had fixated on the metal object in the visitor's right hand, which was trembling just as much as Donna was. This woman wasn't of a violent nature and that much was clear to the COO, who was twisting a ring on the middle finger of her left hand.

The pair stood in silence for a minute or so, Donna's eyes flicking between the gun and the woman's eyes. She was trying to think of a way out, a way to diffuse the situation and convince this woman to let her leave the office without injury.

"What's your name?" Donna asked, her voice shaky and her eye twitching. There was another resounding silence after her question.

"Emma." Her right hand was wrapped firmly around the pistol, her left tightly gripping the handles of her handbag.

"Well, Emma, I don't think you want to hurt anyone," Donna said through baited breath. When she didn't receive a response, she continued her assumptions. "I think that if you wanted to hurt me then you would've done it already."

"You think you know me that well?" Emma spat; her feet were rooted to the spot where she stood.

"I know you must be pretty hurt to be holding a gun to a woman who's never wronged you." Donna's voice was barely above a whisper and she almost wished she'd not spoken.

"Holding a gun to the person he loves will hurt a lot fucking more than holding a gun to him." She held intense eye contact with Donna, who was too scared to look away.

"What did he do?" Donna asked, a nervous nausea creeping through her.

"Defended the company responsible for my daughter's death and landed me in thousands of dollars of debt." Emma gritted her teeth after she spoke. Donna took a deep breath and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

"Parker and Rover," Donna muttered.

"Yes. They killed my daughter!" Emma's voice was raised and Donna didn't know how to reply without pouring salt in the wound. "Do you have children?"

"Not yet," Donna replied, her eyes flooded with desperation and still locked on the bereft mother in front of her. The gun woman tilted her head slightly to the right and furrowed her brows prompting Donna to nod. She struggled to read Emma's expression. She looked regretful but determined as she pursed her lips and dropped her eyes to the floor, the outstretched arm beginning to lower slightly.

"I lost everything," the brunette uttered. She looked back up to Donna, her breathing heavy.

"And you want someone to pay?" Donna preempted but the brunette's face didn't move. It was expressionless as she remained composed. "It's not Harvey's fault." She regretted her statement when Emma lifted her arm up again, stretched out and pointed at the redhead.

"He's going to keep hurting people like me." She was shaking now, Donna uncertain whether it was a result of anger or fear or both, the gun rattling with the rest of her body.

"You can't kill every corporate lawyer's girlfriend," Donna whispered, her eyes wide. She swallowed hard, her heart rate quickening as it echoed in her ears, "and I don't think you want to."

"What?"

"If you really wanted to hurt me then surely you would've pulled the trigger by now. Instead, you've been talking to me. Maybe there's something else you want," she was treading on thin ice now. Her heart rate was through the roof, her hands were clammy and shaking as she held them tightly beside her body, pressing the end of her thumbnails into the tips of her fingers.

"We can pay your debts and no one has to get hurt," Donna continued as she stared into Emma's teary green eyes. "You can put the gun away, walk out of here without anyone getting hurt and no one has to know this ever happened."

The redhead took a small step closer, disobeying her body's wishes and demands, her ankle almost keeling over when her foot landed on the floor.

"You don't have to do this, Emma." She reached out an open palm, willing to take the gun from the woman should she agree, and Donna was desperately hoping she would. "We can forget all of this and go back to normal."

"I can't go back to normal! My girl isn't coming back!" Emma's anger prompted Donna to drop her arm back down to her side. She watched as the woman tried to stifle her tears, her face screwed up and her other hand meeting the handle of the weapon.

The next moments were slow but fast all at once. Donna had always mocked the portrayal of death in slow motion but everything near enough froze. Time slowed as she awaited the inevitable, stuck to the ground and unable to move. Yet, it all happened so quickly that she could hardly register it. The piercingly loud noise that caused the room to vibrate soon echoed through her body. It started at her feet and she felt the sound travel up her – a feeling she didn't even know was possible.

"What was that?" Samantha asked, stunned by the intrusive noise. The five colleagues frozen in time, drinks in hand, Harvey's record filling the space between them. They all shared looks of shock, panic and confusion. All, except for Harvey. His eyes were stuck, staring out of the glass door but unable to see any movement in the otherwise empty fiftieth floor.

At first it was a punch, it winded her and knocked her down. It quickly became a burning sensation, a flame that ripped her apart. She tried to let out a sound but she was smothered by the pain, a strained, quiet, high pitched noise was all that left her throat.

"Donna." Her name fell from his lips with concern, and passion, and fear. He dropped his near empty flute, the smashing of glass catching his partners by surprise and the small amount of liquid splattered across the floor, but he'd already moved away. He was swinging the glass door open, taking big strides down the corridor as his friends began to follow.

Her hands were there immediately, wet and hot and making the pain even worse. She held onto it, feeling the liquid oozing out of her. She was melting, slipping through her own fingers, everything spinning out of control. She was desperate to call out but she couldn't find the strength; an incoherent welp left her but it wasn't loud enough for her friends to hear.

He quickened his speed, beginning to run, hearing his friends telling him not to panic making it worse. He couldn't slow himself down even if he wanted to. His unconscious mind controlling his body. His chest ached, his mind felt numb, all he could think about was her.

She forced her heavy head up off of the ground, trying to catch a glimpse of the state she was in. Her rapid breathing contributing to her dizziness, she saw a blur of crimson against the white fabric that encased her hourglass figure. She lifted her hand, her soaked fingers twitching, before her head fell back with a thud. She could feel her heart beating so rapidly that it hurt. Her hands remained in place, hovering on and over the right side of her ribs, just below her chest and breasts. Her fingers beginning to go numb, her toes too, her body still frozen.

He was closer, he was almost there, his breathing erratic. Samantha wasn't far behind him; he could hear her talking but he couldn't hear the words. Everything was futile now, everything that wasn't her. The rational part of his mind was telling him Donna was fine but he had a feeling. A feeling deep inside of him. He knew that she wasn't.

He reached her open door, stopping at the gap. He couldn't see her. Until he did.

Time froze for what seemed to be a lifetime – it was no more than a second before he rushed to her side.

He dropped to his knees, landing in the stream of blood leaving her side. He shed his suit jacket, screwing it up. She moved her hands just enough for him to take their place, holding the grey fabric against her wound. He scooped his arm under her neck and shoulders before he lifted her to rest in his lap.

"Call an ambulance!" He yelled at Samantha when he heard her stride come to a halt. The flustered blonde had left her cell phone in his office. She hurried towards Donna's secretary's desk, grabbing the phone with a quaking hand. She pressed the numbers with a trembling finger and pursed her lips to prevent a sob from escaping.

Alex, Louis and Katrina were suddenly there. She couldn't register her surroundings. She heard the latter two say something about towels before disappearing. She could hear the voice of a man down the line but she couldn't form the words, stuttering and quivering. She heard him tell her it was ok, to calm down.

"Samantha, let me," Alex held out his hand and she took a moment to register his gesture before handing him the phone and sinking down into the chair at the desk.

"Harvey," Donna croaked, her voice raspy and quiet. She could feel him pressing firmly down against her, trying to stop the bleeding, no one knowing if it was really going to help.

"You're okay," his voice was reassuring but close to breaking, his hand squeezing the top of her arm as he held her against him. Her fast, shallow breaths making her chest feel ready to burst. She shook her head as she looked up at him, their gazes locking. Her unspoken response forcing him to swallow the large lump in his throat.

"It's okay," he whispered, forcing half a smile but knowing he wasn't kidding either of them.

He looked up when he heard Louis' voice, him and Katrina having returned. The managing partner was crouching opposite Harvey, towel in hand.

"Move your jacket," he instructed. Louis was surprisingly collected, surprising because of his track record when it came to reacting to shock. Harvey did as he said and the towel was pushed into its place, Louis holding it for a moment as Harvey tucked Donna's hair behind her ear, blood staining her cheek.

When he was sure Harvey had a hold of the towel, Louis stepped back. He sat in a chair at Donna's table, watching intently as the scene unfolded in front of him. His bottom lip quivered as his eyes welled with tears.

"I…" She struggled to speak, overwhelmed by pain but parts of her body slowly becoming numb. "Scared." She choked out, staring into Harvey's deep brown eyes, her own a foggy haze that made her surroundings barely visible.

"I know," he was still trying to force some sort of a smile just to stop himself from breaking down over her increasingly limp body.

"I…" She began, closing her eyes as she swallowed before opening them again. "I don't want to die." Her breath was wheezy and she was struggling to keep her eyes open, her lips drying out further with each inhale. A single tear slipped down the side of her face, the droplet falling into her auburn locks, splayed over Harvey's thigh.

"You're not going to die," he reassured her. He stopped putting pressure on her wound and cupped her head in his shaking hand. His touch was tender against her porcelain skin, her makeup still in place like nothing had happened while the rest of her body had drained itself of any colour.

"Where are the fucking medics?" He shouted, facing his colleagues who were as powerless as he was. Samantha had her hand in a fist, the knuckle of her thumb pressing against her mouth, watching through the glass. Alex and Katrina were also outside, unable to stand still as they awaited help. Unlike Louis, who sat motionless, tasting the salty water as it hit his lips.

Harvey turned back to Donna, brushing his thumb delicately against her cheek.

"Donna, open your eyes," he whispered and he watched her lashes flutter. "Hm, you need to stay awake," his voice cracked when he spoke; he was struggling. Struggling to speak, struggling to think, struggling not to fall apart.

"Harvey, I…" She began, gasping for air after only two short words. His hand returned to the towel soaked in crimson, pressing firmly once again, desperate to help her.

"Donna," he muttered. She stirred, a small illogical groan escaping her open lips, but she didn't open her eyes. She couldn't. A heaviness had overcome her, weighing down on every inch of her body, stopping her from moving.

"Harvey, they're here!" Alex called in from the hall, Harvey's gaze still locked on Donna. He couldn't look away, the fear of losing her too much. So, he remained there, remained still. The paramedics entering the office and approaching him, asking him to move but he didn't think he could.

"Harvey, come on," he heard Samantha, a hand falling on his shoulder. "Let them do their jobs." She was quiet, as though speaking forbidden words. Harvey adjusted his position, gently placing Donna's head and shoulders back onto the floor, releasing his grip on the towel as he stood up, stepping back to give the paramedics space. He didn't know if she was aware that he'd moved away, he almost wished she wasn't, not wanting her to think he'd left her.

He stumbled back until the backs of his knees hit the couch in the exact place that he'd seen her sitting earlier that evening. He dropped down, landing against it, leaning forwards and staring attentively at Donna – still unable to look away.

When she'd been taken into the ambulance, he followed, climbing inside and sitting in the back with her and one of the EMTs. He held her hand in his as he took in the view of her – oxygen mask over her face, IV drip in her hand, temporary dressing on her side that was quickly filling with blood. The others had decided to meet him there. Each one of them knew it would be useless to go home, none of them able to rest until they knew what was going on.

Upon arrival at the hospital, Samantha had regained composure. She'd taken the shock hardest at first but was a useful asset now she'd had the journey to set her mind straight. Alex was coping pretty well too – he'd gone immediately into survival mode and knew his façade would hold up for a while. Katrina was starting to crumble by this point, though. At first, she told herself that Donna would be absolutely fine _because she's Donna_. The car ride over had done nothing but unsteady her, nervous energy growing by the second.

Louis was finding it tough. Entering the building, he was reminding himself to breathe. His survival mode had faded quite quickly and the gravity of the situation had hit him with an almighty thud.

The group was led to a corridor where a row of grey chairs was. An almost unrecognisable figure sat at the end, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, breathing noticeably heavy. They silently sat down, joining their colleague, their partner, their friend. Louis took the seat adjacent to Harvey, saying nothing but letting him know he was there. The unbearable silence begging to be broken, hurting each person that little bit more.

"She's in surgery," he breathed out, barely audible. Louis didn't flinch upon the words, no one did. He remained with his head tipped back against the white wall behind him.

Harvey let out a deep sigh before standing up in a sudden movement, startling the others. He ran his right hand through his hair, left hand on his hip, taking a few steps away from the group. He made momentary eye contact with a young female nurse, who looked him up and down before throwing a quick smile his way, hurrying off with the pile of blankets between her arms.

He knew what the look was for. He looked like he'd walked straight out of a horror movie. Stained by the red streaks quite literally from head to toe. His dress shirt was ruined, his trousers too, and his jacket was still on her office floor, scrunched up in the pool of liquid. His hands were bloodied too, and it was the first time he truly noticed the traces of her left all over him.

Spotting a sign for the men's room, he made a beeline for the door. Swinging it open aggressively, he walked straight over to the sink. His hands gripped on its edges as he took a deep breath in, steadying himself where he stood, looking up into the mirror. He could see where he'd touched his wet hands against his face, fingerprints and streaks of red on his jaw and side of his face, a dab on his forehead.

He heard the door open and close again, spotting Louis in the mirror. The otherwise empty bathroom was silent until Harvey turned on the tap. With immense urgency, he scrubbed at his hands, the scarlet falling off of him and down the drain. He needed to get her off of him. It wasn't the her that he knew or the her that he wanted to know.

He splashed his face with the cold water before shutting off the tap, trying to gain some composure as he stood leant over. Footsteps approached him from behind and he waited with baited breath for his friend to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he didn't speak. He placed a hand on the top of Harvey's back, compensating for his inability to form a worthwhile sentence.

"I should've saved her." Harvey whispered after a minute, staring at the taps.

"You couldn't-" Louis began, but was interrupted by Harvey's frustration.

"Yes, I could," he pushed himself off of the sink, turning away from his friend and staring towards the wall, unwilling to show his vulnerability. "I should've made her stop working, made her join us when I saw her before." His voice was filled with emotions: sadness, frustration, despair.

"Yeah and that asshole would've come looking for her anyway." Louis tried to reason, his attempts to relieve Harvey of blame seeming pointless.

"Why would anyone hurt her, Louis?" His unsteady voice was a stab to his friend's heart; he wasn't used to seeing a broken Harvey. "She's the kindest, most thoughtful person I've ever met. Why would anyone want to hurt her?" He was begging for answers, pleading for a reason, anything. He couldn't make sense of any of it. Donna wasn't a bad person, she was the best he knew, so how was any of this possible?

"It's my goddamn fault," Harvey spat out, continuing his spiral into irrationality.

"No, no, no," Louis replied instantaneously. "You can't blame yourself."

"But I have to, I caused this!" Harvey fought back, evidently close to breaking point. He took a few steps closer to the wall and away from his friend, desperate to isolate himself.

"That's not going to help her!" Louis protested, adamant not to let Harvey beat himself up for a situation he had no control over.

"Nothing I do is going to help her," Harvey sounded resolute as he looked over his right shoulder. Slowly, he turned his body half the way to catch up with his head, his vision blurred by the liquid that had gathered in his eyes. Clenching his jaw, he found his hand tightening into a fist by his side, anger building up as he thought about her.

With a guttural scream, Harvey punched the wall, hitting it with such force he could easily have done his knuckles some serious damage. He left his fist against where he punched, bring the rest of his body towards the wall. He touched his head against it, resting it there. He opened up his hand, grazed knuckles stinging, and rested both open palms against the wall next to his head.

He was holding himself up, trying his damnedest not to collapse into a heaped mess on the floor. The tears that had threatened to fall finally slipped down his cheeks and, once the flow had started, he didn't know that it would ever stop. He was silent at first, but soon he gasped, desperate for oxygen. The gasp turned into a sob, a loud single sob that filled the room, startling Louis.

The managing partner was unsure of how to react at first. He stood unmoving, trying to speak but unable to find the words, not knowing what to do in such a painful situation. He never could've imagined finding himself here: Donna on the operating table, Harvey falling apart, him trying to be a voice of comfort and reason.

Harvey dropped his hand, his thumb and index finger stretched across his face and resting on the outer corners of his eyes in an attempt to stem the tears. He groaned out an "oh god," choking back a sob as he slid his stretched hand down his face and over his mouth.

He was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder, a slight sideways rub.

"It's okay," Louis muttered, repeating the words that Harvey had earlier uttered to Donna.

"It's not," Harvey blurted out, voice cracking as he did. He suppressed a wretch, his stomach beginning to lurch as his mind returned to the image of her on the floor, coming undone in front of his helpless self. "I need to call her parents," he mumbled, overcome with dread. He didn't know if he could bring himself to say it, what had happened.

"Do you want me to?" Louis offered, questioning his own sanity but knowing that no matter how hard he would find it, Harvey would find it even harder. He watched his friend nod and he backed away, preparing himself to make the call. "Harvey," he said, prompting his friend to almost look his way.

"She needs you." He paused for a moment before leaving the bathroom, Harvey still trying to fight against the tears, the taste of the salt on his lips making it all the more difficult.

When Louis returned to his colleagues after making the call to Donna's mother, he slumped down to the floor on the other side of the corridor to the chairs. They were still waiting for news and Harvey hadn't yet returned.

"That was horrible," he mumbled, staring at a spot opposite him. "We still need to tell Jessica and Mike and Rachel," he breathed in exhaustion, closing his eyes momentarily to gather his thoughts.

"I can call Robert, he can pass the message on to Rachel," Samantha suggested solemnly. It would be easier for them all. None of them would have to directly tell the redhead's best friend and talking to Robert would take a weight off of her mind, or so she hoped. So, she pushed herself out of her seat and headed towards the exit, doing everyone a favour.

Another hour and a half passed before they were told anything. The five had taken to talking about Donna after the silence became too painful. Samantha started, talking about how no one had ever been able to work her out as well as Donna. It took a while for Harvey to participate, eventually revealing details of when they first met. How she knew what she wanted and went and got it. He told them about the first play he saw her in, Othello, and it led to him and Louis discussing her production of The Merchant of Venice.

When the surgeon appeared, he called Harvey away from the group, the eager man jumping to his feet and hurtling over.

"The bullet clipped her lung and went through an artery, the latter being the cause of the blood loss. There was a minor complication in the form of a small haemorrhage but, like I said, it was easy for us to get back on top of. We've managed to stabilise her but we're continuing to run tests and settle her in her room." He informed Harvey, who was trying his best to absorb the facts.

"When can I see her?" Harvey asked, speaking so quickly the doctor could barely decipher it.

"As I said, we're running some tests and ensuring there are no internal injuries we missed. I don't know how long it'll take but it won't be as long as your previous wait." The evasive answer frustrated Harvey, his teeth gritted as the surgeon walked away.

They fell into silence again for the next half hour, everyone waiting for the test results and no one having the energy to keep up their facades. Each one was visibly shattered, needing their beds but reluctant to leave.

When the surgeon returned, he led Harvey just around the corner to Donna's room.

"She's still sedated as we keep up regular observations and ensure she gets through the next 24 hours." He said before opening the door, following Harvey inside.

She was intubated, the surgeon said it was a precautionary measure that's only intended as temporary. Her makeup had been removed by a nurse, which he was relieved to see – she hated sleeping in her makeup. She was the palest he'd ever seen her, her skin dull and lifeless. She had wires and tubes hanging out of her, a barrier between them that made this situation all the more difficult.

"She's critical but stable," the doctor stated, watching Harvey walk towards the bed. "We didn't find anything to further compromise her condition, and the baby is fine."

The lawyer whipped his head around, startled by the last statement, his bottom lip dropping. He slowly looked back to his girlfriend; mouth still agape as he gently ran the back of his finger up her arm.

The touch sent shivers down his spine, a vibration shooting up his arm and right to his heart, or so it felt. She was still there, underneath the tubes and behind the whirs and beeps of the machines, holding on. She'd made it this far, she just needed to push further.

"She's measuring at about 6 weeks. The fetus was unharmed. Congratulations. I'll leave you to be alone with her," and he left the room quietly.

Harvey pulled up a chair from the edge of the room. He sunk into it, sitting to her left. He slipped his left hand over hers, careful not to knock the catheter needle. His grazed hand was in his lap, slightly swollen and bruised, hiding it from her because he knew she wouldn't want him to have hurt himself.

"It's me, Harvey," he breathed, his eyes locked on her face. "I can't believe what you just put me through. Don't ever do that to me again," he tried to keep a light-hearted tone, avoid the seriousness of the situation. He didn't know whether she could hear him but it didn't matter.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." He neatened the hair that framed her face, tucking the loose strands behind her ears, running his fingers through her fiery mane.

"Now I find out there's two of you," he whispered through a pained smile; a bittersweet revelation. A horrible circumstance for wonderful news. He couldn't help but wonder whether she knew, and if she did, when she found out and when she was going to tell him.

"We might have to sell the condo to afford the dry-cleaning bill on your dress." He tried to joke but it came out slow and solemn, making it sound like more of a criticism.

"You did a good job of scaring me," he brushed his thumb over her knuckles, looking at her limp hand. He glided his underneath, bringing up his injured hand and encompassing hers between them both. He lifted her hand, her arm heavy and unresponsive to his touch, and held it. He planted a kiss, resting his lips against her skin, inhaling her scent with closed eyes. Eyes which, yet again, swelled with that oh so familiar salty water. He was still scared. Less scared, but scared nonetheless.

"I love you, Donna." His voice cracking as he breathed the words into her skin.

And there he sat, waiting. At some point in those early hours he was able to drift into a light sleep, hand still linked with hers. When her parents arrived, he waited still, until Jessica convinced him to go home and clean up. He agreed, reluctantly, and returned quickly. Back to his seat at her bedside where he continued to wait. It was a painful wait, a difficult wait, but he had no other choice. She was Donna and he was Harvey. He had waited thirteen years and, if he needed to, he would wait for thirteen more.

* * *

**This has been bouncing around my head for a while and I figured a one shot was the only way to get it out of my system! The season 4 line haunts me, I swear. I don't trust the writers to waste such a prominent, important line! I left it open ended to let you decide their fates for yourselves but I know what happens next in my head. If you've reached this point then thank you so much for reading! Reviews are of course always appreciated, they always make me feel so much better, easing my nerves! **

**Thanks again you lovely lot, Jess xx**


	2. Part II

**The plan with Smothered was for it to be a really powerful standalone that I'd never touch again... then people kept asking for a follow up chapter so I gave in. I started this a couple of months ago and only really wrote it within the last few days but it's finally here. I hope everyone likes it, I did only really write it for you guys after all! Thanks to Jess (darveymylove) for being my beta, assuring me that it's not boring and that people will like it - which I so hope you'll agree with after reading!**

**\- Jess x**

* * *

Part II

He felt himself drift into consciousness, met by the pattern of beeps that both jarred and soothed him. His hand shot to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to relieve the discomfort that came from napping on a chair. He opened his eyes, his gaze drawn to her first and foremost. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her delicate features expressionless, the rest of her body unmoving.

He'd not left the hospital since his short trip home in the morning. Donna's parents had urged him to go for a walk, to go home, to get out of the damned building just to clear his head. He'd refused, of course, determined to remain with her until she woke. Encouraging them to leave to get a good night's sleep when the day moved into the night. He'd offered them his spare room but the couple declined, deciding to stay in a hotel to give him the space he would likely need.

The police had appeared twice. In the morning to take Harvey's statement, recording his version of events, and to speak with her surgeon. In the early evening, they returned to update Harvey on the developments of the case. CCTV had identified a tall, slim woman entering and exiting the building whom they were looking to identify in order to make an arrest. He recognised her face, the surname Allen coming to mind, the Parker and Rover suit surfacing in his brain.

He was hit with the realisation that it wasn't Donna the woman wanted to hurt; it was him. The confirmation was all he needed. He'd been right to blame himself. Her mother disagreed, promptly quashing his illogical belief, reminding him that he couldn't have known it was to happen and he had simply done his job by defending the company. Reminding him that no one was to blame except the woman who did it.

His mind wandered back to a sentence spoken by Jim Paulsen, a man he never thought he'd be able to respect and yet, somehow, he couldn't get past the words.

"You and I might not see eye to eye on most things, but both our hearts belong to her and that's enough."

He wasn't sure what the 'enough' was, his wife calling him before Harvey could ask, but Harvey was touched by it. The sentence leaving its mark, imprinting on his brain leaving him sure he'd never forget it: the first hint of any kind of relationship beyond dismissal between the pair.

His eyes fell to the window opposite him, across the room, the clear night sky lit by the busyness of Manhattan. He found himself gravitating towards it, standing in front of the glass as he peered out. He glanced down from her first-floor room, watching people walk along the sidewalk and wondering whether they were the family and friends of patients. He looked up, not entirely sure why because he knew you couldn't see a single star with the bright lights. He almost wished the entire city would shut off, fall asleep, plunge into darkness just for a moment's peace.

"Mr Specter," he heard from behind. He turned to see the first surgeon who'd cared for her in the doorway. _'Poor guy got the night shift twice in a row,'_ he thought to himself. Another consultant had been in during the day, a woman who had a similar 'run the world' attitude to Jessica.

"We need to take Donna for a chest x-ray," he informed Harvey, who nodded and left the room, getting out of their way before they moved her. He headed to the café, not hungry or particularly thirsty but knowing he needed something.

He grabbed a coffee and a cheese croissant. The coffee lacked vanilla and the croissant was a distasteful, not that he was looking to complain after the recent ordeal.

His eyes drifted around the room from the chair in which he sat, falling upon a young man with a young child, no older than two. Her hair was tied on the top of her head, amplifying her cuteness as she wolfed down a sandwich from a child's food box. Her father looked exhausted; large bags sat under his eyes as he slumped in his chair, a coffee cup in front of him. Harvey couldn't help but wonder about the mother. Was she a patient? Was she in the picture?

He pondered his own potential future, thoughts turning to his unborn child. Picturing his own little girl, whether she would be a redhead or a blonde, hair tied in the same way. Or a boy, a miniature version of himself wearing braces alongside a Cheshire Cat grin.

Having finished the snack, he made his way back to Donna's room with the coffee in his hands. Sat on a seat in the corridor, he tapped against his cardboard cup. Until she was back, accompanied by doctors and nurses and porters.

"Remarkably, she's already ready to come off of ventilation." The doctor's statement came as a breath of fresh air for Harvey, a wave of relief washed over him and he knew this was the beginning of their ascent from the unknown.

The doctor disappeared into the room; Harvey left waiting but not feeling so tense – a feeling he couldn't quite place bubbling under the surface.

"We'll be back to check in on her in an hour, you can go in now." The surgeon said upon reappearing, smiling with a clear sincerity.

Harvey pushed the door open with more ease than before, stopping when he saw the absence of the intubation tubes – a far less intrusive oxygen tube in its place. That alone made her look better than before, his eye twitching as he looked on.

He returned to the seat he'd previously resided in, left hand hooking onto hers once more. His fingers trailed over her freckles, drawing maps across her skin, creating constellations with every mark. It was something he did often, usually without thought, as they would lie in bed or cuddle on the couch. This time, though, he couldn't help but think about every little mark, every shape, tracing her skin while overcome with the relief of knowing he hadn't lost her.

He stayed there until the doctor returned, letting his mind wander into their potential future, imagining what they could have without worrying about what he could lose.

The shift of her index finger against his skin stopped him in his tracks. It was the slightest movement but a movement all the same. His eyes darted to her face as a pained hum escaped her – it was quiet but not too quiet, the doctor glancing up.

"Donna," he whispered as he leant forward in his seat. Her head tilted towards him, a grimaced expression on her face.

"Hey," she breathed out quietly, eyes fixed on his.

"Hey," he smiled, hand delicately tracing the hair around her face. "You gave us quite the fright," he continued softly.

"How are you feeling?" Came the doctor, Donna's eyes drifting towards him at the end of her bed. She wanted to expel a sarcastic comment but it was too much work, not bothering to correct the slight groan that escaped her lips when she tried to reply.

"Can you remember what happened?" The professional continued, holding a clipboard with medical notes attached, leafing through it.

"I got shot," she managed to muster up, voice husky and quiet. Her answer was met by a nod.

"You'll have to be in here a while, most likely needing at least one more surgery if not more, but the fact that you're awake and talking is a really good sign." He explained, the redhead plainly feeling exhausted. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to know there was no harm to your unborn baby," he continued and Donna's lips formed a smile.

"I'll leave you two alone for now," he stated as he placed down the clipboard before leaving the room.

"I was going to tell you," Donna croaked out as she turned back to Harvey.

"You don't have to say that," he muttered, simply just pleased she was awake.

"I was, when we got home, to celebrate the win." She revealed breathlessly and her boyfriend squeezed her hand.

"We can still have a celebration when you get home," he grinned, mind wandering into a territory all too familiar when it came to them.

"I'm not going to be in for a while, no way." She stated; adamant she was leaving sooner than the surgeon anticipated.

As the weeks passed, Donna's determination to prove she was ready to leave – which she wasn't – waned when she began to realise that the unnecessary pain that came with pushing herself too hard wasn't worth it. Alongside the morning – well, all day – sickness, it was exhausting her throughout the first trimester.

Her hospital stay had meant she didn't have to travel far for her maternity appointments, the floor she'd been moved to being the one below it. Their 12-week scan was something special, their hearts nearly exploding at the time. Harvey couldn't believe his eyes, rendered speechless by what he'd seen, eager to send a photo to everyone he knew.

Donna swore it was going to be a boy, telling Harvey that she knew it and dismissing his mere suggestion it was going to be a girl, sometimes getting annoyed by his persistence.

Much to her surprise, Donna was wrong. At their 20-week ultrasound, Donna found herself dumbfounded by the revelation that they were, in fact, having a girl. She wasn't as much excited as she was concerned that she'd spent 14 weeks drawing up a list of boys' names and completely ignorant to Harvey's suggestion of a daughter. When it came to discussing names for her, they didn't always see eye to eye either.

"I'm not naming her after a comic book character." Donna insisted, vehemently opposing Harvey's proposal.

"I'm just saying that if she's a redhead, Lana Specter sounds pretty great." He smirked, lifting the bag of Donna's things off of the bed.

"What if she doesn't even like Superman?" Donna posed as she slipped her chunky knit cardigan over her tee.

"No child of mine could ever not like Superman." Harvey insisted as he snaked his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him as they left the ward.

For Donna finally, at 26 weeks pregnant, found herself being discharged from hospital and strictly directed to take a minimum of 6 weeks off of work – they both thought this ridiculous. In her mind, it was far too long and almost made it not worth even going back to work for to have to leave another few weeks later. According to Harvey, it wasn't long enough and she shouldn't return before giving birth.

He was the first to admit he was being a little – okay, a lot – overprotective. It was natural, a session with Dr Lipschitz, forced on him by Donna, had told him as much. Forced on him as a result of herself being pushed into counselling. She didn't deny it was a good idea but that didn't mean she couldn't use it to her advantage in such a way.

In reality, despite an urgency to return to work, Donna also wasn't so sure it was for the best. She knew she wanted to; she loved her job, the people, their second home. That, however, didn't mean it'd be easy. The idea of returning to the very building she was shot in, let alone the office, made her uneasy. Fear and anxiety would rise at the mere thought of it and, though she tried to hide it, it wasn't always that suppressible.

It was one of the biggest reasons Harvey wasn't keen on the idea of her going back. He'd seen Donna in a way that he'd never seen her before. Racing pulse, clammy hands, unsteady breathing. It was fine when they were busy – whether that be on a date night, buying baby things, conducting business of their own – but moments of silence, nothingness and calm could sometimes be disturbed by moments of anxiety from the redhead.

Not that it was a daily occurrence and it didn't take over their lives in the way he'd researched that it could but Harvey didn't like it. Seeing Donna Paulsen fail to find peace of mind in the comfort of their own home made him all the more certain she shouldn't return to work before giving birth, at least not properly.

The counsellor had wondered the same, unsure whether throwing herself back into her job would be wise, debating with Donna the potential of it knocking her completely off track. She'd suggested to the COO that she adopt a systematic approach, returning to the building being the first step and returning to her office on a visiting basis being the second.

When she brought it up with Harvey, he couldn't help but agree and Donna really couldn't fault him after his support. He'd been unwavering in the 'boyfriend of the year' role and, while she'd not been happy at first, she soon got over it.

"You can't even begin to understand!" Was thrown his way and he took it because he couldn't. He hadn't lived through it like she had.

"That doesn't mean that I don't care." He'd challenged, stubborn in his view, wanting nothing more than to help her because, when it came down to it, she was all that mattered. His unborn child too, that went without saying, but at that moment in time, knowing she was struggling to come to grips with the difficulties she'd faced in the wake of her attack, she was the only person that mattered.

"Harvey agrees with you." Donna said at the following session, biting her bottom lip after speaking as the brunette sat across from her. "I just don't want it to take any longer than it has to," she revealed before looking down at her impending arrival. A cream jumper was tightly hugging her bump.

"These things always take time," Dr Ferris began. "There's no textbook to follow when it comes to recovering from a trauma, no 'one size fits all' method."

"Hypothetically, what if I didn't go back before giving birth? Not even to stop by and kick start a return," Donna said with acute concern, the idea having weighed on her mind.

"Then you can do it after. There is no time limit for this, you don't have to rush it and I don't want you to rush it. You need to be able to push yourself but not if it'll do more harm than good. You'll know when it's time."

X

She pushed and pulled her skin, stretching it and the scar that resided in it as she stood in front of the mirror. She was used to it, the reminder of all that could have been lost, etched into her for the rest of her life. It wasn't entirely sad, bittersweet really. It wrecked her, terrified her, but made her all the more grateful for all the good that followed.

"Why do you have that?" Came a small voice, stood in the doorway. Freckles were scattered over her nose and across her cheeks and her face was framed by wavy, strawberry blonde locks.

Donna glanced over to her daughter, internally debating whether or not to tell her. The child must have seen it before, though hadn't before seen Donna staring at it, yet had never questioned it.

"Somebody hurt me," she replied as she walked towards the child, blouse slipping back down.

"Why would they do that?" She asked with wide eyes, her sweetness and innocence shining through, her mother's hand landing on her hair.

"She was upset and sometimes when people are upset, they want to upset other people, too." Donna tried to explain, not entirely sure that the girl understood. "That's not okay though. We shouldn't upset other people no matter how we feel." The follow up felt important, knowing her daughter's tendency to soak up information like a sponge.

"Why don't we go have breakfast, Lana?" Donna suggested, eliciting a wide and all too familiar grin.

"That's why daddy sent me up here, to tell you your coffee's ready." A slight lisp accompanied the words and the girl led her mother from the bedroom doorway to the stairs.

"When did you get it?" She asked as they made their way down, hand trailing along the wooden bannister.

"When you were still in my tummy," Donna smiled to her left, finding herself met by a gaping mouth and raised brows, eyes bursting.

"Was I hurt too?" Lana questioned in surprise and Donna shook her head.

"Luckily not," she almost whispered. She found herself thinking about how differently that night could have gone more often than she liked to admit. A life without that button nose and those smartass comments seemed completely unimaginable unless she envisioned a life of emptiness – something Donna tried her best not to dwell on.

"It's like we're superheroes!" The child squealed as she jumped off of the bottom step.

"What superhero are you then, Lana?" Harvey asked as she appeared in the kitchen and dining area, extending his arm to pass Donna her coffee.

"Batman," she replied excitedly.

"What about Superman?" Harvey asked as he buttered the girl's toast.

"He's not as cool as Batman. I don't like Superman as much," she shrugged and Harvey's bottom lip dropped. Donna found herself nearly spitting her drink back into its mug, biting the inside of her cheeks as she swallowed.

"It's a good job we didn't name you after a Superman character then," Donna quipped. It was as much a dig at her fiancé as it was a response to the child, who – despite her intelligence and knowledge beyond her four years of life – didn't quite pick up on the sarcastic undertones.

"That would be embarrassing." She said, half of her upper lip lifting in disgust at the idea of it.

"Eat your toast," her father cut in as he handed her the plate, Lana carrying it to her seat. She'd declared a week earlier that she was no longer a baby and was perfectly capable of carrying her own food like an adult.

Donna placed her mug on the countertop and looked up to Harvey, his eyes very obviously studying her as they usually did on this day.

"How do you feel?" He asked quietly, edging closer to her.

"I'm okay," she replied with a small but oh so sincere smile. "I thought having to tell her about it would be hard but it wasn't," Donna continued in a whisper.

"Today of all days," he whispered back.

"She doesn't know how it happened but it doesn't seem as difficult as I thought it would be." She continued, Harvey tucking a hair behind her ear as she spoke. "Maybe I'll wait another 5 years though," she smirked, catching the attention of the little ears across the room.

"Another 5 years for what?" The child asked eagerly, straightening in her seat.

"Nothing for you to worry about, little miss nosey."


End file.
